Accidents
by trufflemores
Summary: In which Blaine tries to stage a romantic evening by cooking Kurt dinner but ends up hurting himself in the process. Fluff and comforting snuggles ensue. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

"I'm sorry that I ruined our evening."

Kurt sighed as he pressed the disinfected cloth more firmly against the cut on Blaine's hand. The area was still bright red and tender, if the hiss that Blaine let out was anything to go by. Kurt stroked his thumb over Blaine's knuckles soothingly, hating to put him through any additional discomfort but trusting the antiseptic to do its job. "I'm just glad that the cut wasn't any deeper," he said, shifting to a more comfortable position on the couch beside him as Blaine stared at his own hand, brows furrowed and expression tense but lightening, a little. "An emergency room visit would definitely have ruined the evening."

Frowning at his hand, Blaine asked, "This hasn't already ruined our evening?"

"Not quite." Lifting the cloth to examine his hand, Kurt replaced it with a soft sound, feeling Blaine's shudder as his jaw tightened another degree. "Hey." Waiting until he had his attention – and clearly it was a struggle for Blaine to take his eyes off the wound, even hidden underneath the white cloth – Kurt cupped his cheek and kissed the tip of his nose. "It's okay."

"I know." Then, letting out a shuddering breath, Blaine repeated, "I know. I just … am not particularly fond of … blood." Shivering again, he added, "I should have – put the knife down when I heard the door. Not my finest moment."

"_But _you would have been very prepared if I had been an axe murderer," Kurt pointed out lightly, smiling when Blaine's lips twitched at the corners, not quite a smile but not a frown, either. "I should probably have announced my arrival better. Or at least called you first."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Blaine said, the pout audible in his tone if not yet visible in his features. His free hand clutched his own knee, flexing and releasing compulsively.

Unable to help himself, Kurt reminded, "It was definitely a surprise."

And it had been: Blaine had been in the middle of chopping up some cloves when Kurt had slid back the door to the loft and, without warning, called, "That smells _amazing._"

He hadn't known that Blaine was chopping cloves until there was the tell-tale _shnick _of a knife coming down on a cutting board and a horribly long pause followed by a sudden gush of sink water and a long, low hiss as it made contact with skin. Hurrying over to assess the damage, Kurt had been alarmed and slightly nauseated at the sight of blood pouring from the space between Blaine's left thumb and index finger. He'd almost backed away entirely, leaving Blaine to take care of it, when he noticed his shoulders trembling finely.

Something had shifted in him, then, instinctive revulsion morphing into a profound need to protect and comfort and _heal._

He'd drawn Blaine back into the comforting circle of his arms for a long moment, confirming that the wound wasn't dangerous at a glance (and again on his phone once he had Blaine settled with a disinfected cloth to the wound).

"I'm not mad that it didn't work out, B," Kurt insisted, curling Blaine's fingers around the cloth and getting up to fetch a clean one from the medicine cabinet. "I think it's sweet and very romantic that you wanted to make us dinner, but I'm happy either way. Okay?" Replacing the soiled cloth with a new roll of gauze, Kurt carefully wrapped his hand as Blaine watched, rapt, until he finished tying it off.

Scooting closer to Kurt, Blaine didn't respond verbally, tilting his head carefully so it was resting on Kurt's shoulder as Kurt held his bandaged hand and stroked his hip with his free hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, once the silence had dragged on long enough to become worrying.

Blaine nodded, shuffling closer until they were pressed hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder, as close as they could be. "Mmhm." Then, with another deep sigh, he admitted, "A little woozy. But I don't think I'm going to throw up anymore."

Kissing his temple once, Kurt rubbed his side for a few long moments, grateful that Blaine hadn't actually thrown up. There were few things _more _miserable for Kurt than seeing Blaine miserable, and knowing that he had been toeing that line just made him want to hold him that much closer.

Tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around both of them, he kissed his temple again and offered, "Why don't you pick out a movie and I'll call for Thai takeout?"

Blaine hummed thoughtfully against his shoulder, his bandaged hand still cradled between Kurt's, flexing a little as he thought. "Can we watch _Mulan_?" he asked at last.

"Whatever you want," Kurt promised.

Romantic dinner foiled and all, Kurt couldn't say that it was a bad ending to the day with Blaine tucked up against his chest as _Mulan _played softly in the background.

Some date nights were unexpected, but as long as he had Blaine – even a snoozing and mildly injured Blaine – then he had everything he needed.


End file.
